The noise of the forge-street faded as JP and Lyra slipped into a quiet alley, away from the smoke and hammer strikes.
JP leaned against the wall, rubbing his temples. "That dagger… it wasn't just enchanted, it was hungry. My Appraisal nearly locked up reading it."
Lyra crossed her arms, her cloak pulling tighter around her. Her voice dropped low. "I've seen artifacts like that before. Not here, not in a simple smith's shop. It's a tool for tracking—and killing. Whoever put it out in the open wasn't selling it. They were sending a message."
JP exhaled, his breath shaky. So, I'm marked. Great. First time in a big city and someone already wants to sharpen me like a pencil.
He shook the thought away. "If they're trying to spook us, it worked. But it also means we need to be ready. No more rusty knives and patched cloaks. Lyra—your bowstring was almost shredded after the bandit ambush. And your armor…" He gestured at her leather vest, the seams worn thin from weeks on the road. "One bad strike and you're done."
Her brow lifted slightly. "Worried about me now, are you?"
JP snorted, trying to mask his nerves. "I'd prefer my first and only party member doesn't die because I cheaped out on equipment. Also, who else is going to bail me out when I do something stupid?"
Lyra smirked, but the edge of seriousness didn't leave her eyes. "So, you're suggesting upgrades?"
"Upgrades," JP said firmly. His voice gained momentum. "High-tensile bowstring, reinforced quiver, light armor plating—but flexible. Something that won't ruin your agility. I can supplement it with resin-bonding and maybe even weave in a few mana lines for shock absorption."
Lyra tilted her head. "You talk like a craftsman, but you're really just imagining me as one of your inventions."
JP rubbed the back of his neck. "Well… yeah. Except you complain more than my prototypes."
She elbowed him in the ribs, but her laughter eased the tension hanging over them. For a moment, the dagger's whisper felt far away.
Then her tone softened. "If you're serious… then we'll focus on me first. You've got your gadgets. But I'll be the one facing danger head-on."
JP nodded. Deep down, he knew she was right. He could tinker, invent, sell lamps and camping kits until the cows came home—but in a fight, Lyra's blade and bow carried them both.
"All right," he said, straightening. "Tomorrow, we go back to the markets. Blacksmiths first, fletchers second. I'll haggle, you keep us from getting scammed. And if we're lucky…" He clenched his satchel. "I can sneak in a few alchemy tricks to make your new gear even better."
Lyra's smile was faint, but genuine. "Sounds like a plan, inventor."
The word inventor warmed JP more than he wanted to admit.
Still, as they headed back toward the inn, the memory of that dagger gnawed at him. Upgrading gear was one thing. Surviving the kind of enemy who left cursed weapons lying around like breadcrumbs… that was another.